Fear Of The “Alien”: What That Fear Is

06/30/12

I just want to sleep. I have to be up in a few hours for work. But no, I had a dream with a lesson and the compulsion to write it out.

Write it out now or all is lost!

What would I risk losing by typing later? The elegance of a concept from the flavor of a dream freshly experienced. This morning’s dream dealt with the fear of “alien” contact during an “abduction” — a subject I’ve shared insights about before both from me and seemingly from elsewhere. Well, this one came from a dream, so presumably it’s from me, but where it’s from doesn’t matter so much. The truth of it does and in one sense it’s nothing new. But in another, it’s very new. It’s a refinement. It’s like I keep getting hit over the head with this “Here’s what fear is about” lesson until I can find just the right words to explain it in totality. Let’s hope I get it right this time.

My firsthand insight into the terror of abduction came during an experience in late October 2001. Upon reflection, I realized that there was a huge discrepancy between the actions of these beings standing in my bedroom urging me to come with them and my reaction to them. They were friendly enough. In fact, I’ve said they have a childlike naivety about them and what that really means is they are empty of the psychological/emotional baggage that turns humans into walking, talking landfills. They smile and I react as though I’m being traumatized by a psychotic.

There is a problem in this relationship and it’s me. Perhaps this is what happens when a fucked up person is gazed at and beckoned by the complete: you realize all at once in that moment what you are because the sane and decent personal image you’ve constructed to not have to acknowledge how fucked up you are to yourself and to force others to believe is the real you is ripped from your face. You are then confronted with a simple truth: the being staring back at you is complete in a way that is both what you yearn for and are repulsed by.

Wholeness is the case of you and so it beckons every moment of the day. Every moment of the day you block out the urge to be authentic, because the inauthentic mask that you claim to be doesn’t appreciate being ripped off. It turns this urge into a yearning for wholeness on its own terms. It wants to proclaim itself whole, not get torn to shreds to reveal the whole, hence the repulsion of a real face staring you in the face. And smiling. And furthermore, that real face, while metaphorically more real than your metaphoric face, is quite probably not literally as real as your own literal face.

This gets convoluted, this simple hello.

The next big reveal in the “Why the scared face?” lesson book came during a hallucinatory dream thing at Jeff’s house that involved, I dunno, chakra activation (I assume?), some words, and visuals. The gist of it was that there has to be fear when another universe touches us because that fear galvanizes our senses and puts us sharply in the moment. This is the state of mind where contact is made.

Presumably, then, if you come from the heart, not the mask, and/or live in the moment, fear is neither a dilemma nor a tool of contact.

These are pretty good insights… into us! Jeff Ritzmann’s age-old discovery about the alien rears its head: you learn volumes about you and nothing about it. But that chocolate is to my peanut butter because my age-old revelation is that we cannot ask what the other is until we know what we are. The mask wants what it wants on its terms, yetthe answer from anyone who knows better is, tough shit.

Well, a little over an hour ago I had three interconnected dreams, the details with which I will not bore you, except for the third. I’m in a large room, perhaps a gymnasium with a bunch of people. It’s nighttime. It’s a sleepover. The lights are out.

We are a high school choir and in the morning we are to travel somewhere to perform a musical number I helped direct two dreams back. It was really stupid, really shitty and meaningless. I did my best to infuse the act with meaning about saving the planet but I know it sucks because I’m just adding onto someone else’s work, which had some components that could have been deep and powerful but the original director had no vision.

Suddenly, a ringmaster walks in. He is a thin balding middle-aged white man straight out of a Barnum & Bailey poster. Only thing missing is the top hat. I recognize him as an alien and am immediately scared. He walks around the room marking those who will be abducted later with a magic marker. I’m one of them. He leaves and now we wait. Who knows when this abduction will happen?

We all go to sleep and the abduction happens. My eyes are closed. Just like real life. I’m lying on my right side. Just like real life. I feel numerous tiny hands on my back and arms. I feel it in real life, too. I start to scream in my usual stark, raving terror, but even so I’m trying to talk myself out of it because nothing bad has happened. Still, I realize I’m being abducted in the middle of the night and am completely helpless to stop this. No one else is stirring so they’re either being abducted too or are shut off to this. And so the fears mount and the terror wins, when a curious thing happens: I feel one of them who I thought was grabbing my arms place its chest against my back. It’s not grabbing me anymore, it’s hugging me! Trying to, anyway.

I feel this sort of artificial compassion waft through my body with the beating quality of a heart and I get it. I say, “Alright, alright, I’m up already” in the annoyed tone one takes with a screaming alarm clock. They don’t have to “abduct” me. I stand on my own. I’ll go with them because I really do finally understand wholly that they mean me no harm. The hug wasn’t a trick even though it felt like artificial compassion. They really are trying to tell me that it’s okay.

The fear-mongering “abduction researchers” interpret artificial emotion on their part as a manipulation, but my insight here is that this is false. It has to feel artificial because they are not OF here. It’s not that they aren’t FROM here, they are not OF here. They are not made of this substance.

That’s the nuance I feel the compulsion to express. We’re heard it before. We’ve said it before. But we’ve overlooked the multifaceted implications of the fact. This is the refinement of what it means to not be from this universe: They are not of our substance. If they were merely from another planet we would recognize them as hot, cold, doing this, doing that. There wouldn’t be this barrier of artificiality about it even if there was lack of understanding as to motive, where they’re from, and so forth.

They are not of this substance.

The best analogy I can think of as to how drastic a difference this is, is thinking of astronauts in space. Take off that flimsy suit and they are dead. How weird is it that we exist in space–we LIVE in a cold dark void filled with things we can hop to but that transition through space is deadly. We can’t live in the most plentiful aspect of our own physical existence. How mind-boggling is that?

These people are as interconnected with us as we are with the space around earth, while paradoxically being as not-of-this-substance as the space around us is. I mean, that’s it. They’re hugging me in a space suit. More accurately, they’re space hugging me in an earth suit. It’s no wonder we confuse them with actual aliens–but actual aliens’ uncovered hands and bodies would not feel like this. They’d feel… alive.

In the dream when I feel this hug beating through me with the artificial–but still good–feelings, I feel it in real life, too. I open my eyes and half expect them to be in the room but I know they aren’t. Not really. This is a dream, right? I close my eyes and try to stay asleep because I’m really tired but I’ve got the nagging feeling that I have to write this. Now.

“Alright, alright, I’m up already,” I actually say out loud.

I go take a leak then check the time: 6:06 AM. Say, in some alternate universe indicated by a dream I had a few nights ago, wasn’t I supposed to write my last blog post at 5:06 AM? Does that mean anything? Does everything mean something? Eh. Too tired for this. One insight is enough. Well, maybe two….

Last night as I lay me down to sleep, I felt my back throbbing as if (and perhaps actually as) the beating of my heart. It felt pretty good. It was emanating from just below the center of my spine. I thought maybe some chakra energy center was spontaneously activating or leaking or something. I’ve felt this before; it’s of no consequence that I can normally tell, but in this case it links to the hugging incident here many hours later. Between this and the chakra/fear explanation I wrote about in the second insight, do we find a clue?

If these beings are not of this substance and let’s say Jeff is right that they cobble together bodies from elements here… might their essence remain wherever they are from? Might the body be physical and here for as long as the interaction takes, but the soul remains behind the veil of differing substances? Might the emotional contact only be available through these nebulous energy centers we call chakras? I experience them; science cannot detect them. They are said to have physical correlates with organs in the body but not be physical in nature. Could they be the emotional centers between worlds and so to express emotion that we can feel is to play us like a musical instrument?

Oh, you want that chord? Chakras 7, 4, and 3. That chord? Compassion? C5 and C1.

If these people whip up a recipe for bodies on earth while remaining where they are and connect to us through chakras, that explains a lot, actually. It explains why interaction with them take on an eerie quality that we interpret as robotic or demonic or like the dead. There are several disconnects going on at once beneath the surface of this organism smiling and trying to take us somewhere. That’s assuming they are physically trying to take us somewhere, which is a terrible assumption to make.

To make matters worse, they could be not of this substance and still be a version of robot. Or the dead. But demon? No, I’m ruling that one out. If demons exist something tells me they wouldn’t bother with this learning curve thing. If nothing else, we can rule that out. So, in that last paragraph where I wrote “that explains a lot, actually”? Yeah, maybe I jumped the gun a bit. Baby steps.

I’ll see you back here at fear insight #4.

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One thought on “Fear Of The “Alien”: What That Fear Is

  1. To me that shows a similarity we may share with the ‘Alien’. Are we not also at our essence something ‘other’ that is also wearing an ‘Earth Suit’ which we entered sometime during the early embryonic stage, except our ‘otherness’ is from this universe and or this dimension?
    Maybe the sensing of the ‘otherness’ that the ‘alien’ is at it’s very essence, inside its ‘earth Suit’, that being from another Universe and or dimension, is what brings the fear. Fear, which as you say runs contrary to their friendly actions and demeanor at times?
    If talking in Angel/Demon terms:
    Angel + Fear reaction = Demon.
    It all depends on the person experiencing the contact what they determine the being to be.
    Or maybe the fear comes from the opposite. Maybe at a deep level, if we and the ‘alien’ all take off our Earth Suits and masks we are the same ‘otherness’, that is not ‘other’ at all but oneness.
    No matter what Universe or dimension we come from.
    Except they are aware of our oneness and we are not. The deep subconscious level that we do recognise our oneness with the ‘alien’ is what surfaces as fear because how can we be part of the same oneness as something so alien to us? Perhaps their alternate dimension or Universe is a barrier like our masks, that keeps the oneness seperate, at least on some level?
    My brain hurts. I too must sleep!

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